


What are Partners For?

by haleyross



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, F/M, Hand Jobs, Lucifer is very hands on, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 3, Sexual Content, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, totally not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleyross/pseuds/haleyross
Summary: After a disastrous first date with Marcus, Chloe second-guesses her feelings towards him. When Lucifer finds out about the date, however, he has a uniquely Lucifer fix.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 183
Kudos: 731





	1. Chapter 1

She replays the moments of the previous night in her head. The food, the drinks, the deep lulls in conversation. The kiss that did nothing for her despite feeling like it should.

Her date with Marcus Pierce was normal, perfect.

Boring.

 _Incredibly_ boring.

She _should_ be thinking about him. About their first kiss and how it should have led to their first time. She _should_ be thinking about being giddy to see him at the station instead of being nervous or worried.

Instead of wondering when she will have to give him the “It’s me, not you” speech.

This was her chance to not end up as a crazy cat lady, and she blew it.

Or rather, she didn’t _blow_ anything.

That was the problem.

She had done everything she could think of to illustrate her interest in him. She touched his arm every once in a while, leaned into him with a laugh.

She did that thing with her spoon, where she licked it seductively. She even lingered much longer than she should have when Marcus dropped her off at her apartment, waiting if he would ask to come in.

But nothing.

Marcus Pierce wasn’t into her, and to be fair, she wasn’t that into him either. But it had been so long since she felt the touch of a man that any interest at this point was better than none.

Better than feeling alone, unloved, and unwanted.

Or maybe he wasn’t that kind of guy? She asks herself.

Maybe he _did_ like her and just wanted to take things slow, wanted to prove to her he could wait. They did work together. Perhaps he was afraid of what that might appear like? To go on a date with a co-worker _and_ sleep with her. She stares off into the distance, self-doubt coursing through her mind.

She wonders if she really feels something for him or just wants to feel something … _different_.

She lets go of a deeply dissatisfied sigh, and it catches the ear of her partner. Lucifer stands a few feet away, fiddling with what appears to be a pricey vase with drawings of humans engaged in coitus on the side.

“Is everything alright, Detective?” he asks her, setting the vase down, “You’ve been horribly distracted all morning. You haven’t even made mention of the five innuendos I’ve made since we stepped foot into this house.”

“Huh?” she says, turning to him. That is when her thought bubble bursts, and she realizes she is - in fact - at a crime scene.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine, just … .”

She reaches a hand up and scratches her temple, “I’m good.”

He narrows his eyes, not believing her.

“Well,” they hear and turn to see Ella approaching them – an evidence bag in hand.

“Officers searched the basement and look what we found? A bloody hammer,” she says.

Lucifer turns to stare at Chloe. Something was off about her.

She was more … _anxious_ than usual.

Ella watches them, a little dejected by the lack of enthusiasm into her reveal. She sighs.

“My guess is the killer used it, stashed it then ran out the back door,” Ella says, turning to the sliding glass door that leads out into an open backyard.

Chloe nods, “Maybe we can lift some fingerprints off of it,” she says, her eyes blinking her but thoughts not _exactly_ on the case.

Ella points to Chloe, the hammer swinging in the bag beneath her closed fist.

“Ahead of you, Decker. I’m going to take this bad boy to the station and see if we can lift any prints off the handle. I’ll test the blood, too. You know, just in case.”

Chloe nods, “Thanks Ella,” she says, turning to look around her.

For anything to keep her mind off the -

“Hey, how did your date go?” Ella asks.

Chloe turns to her, eyes wide.

“Date?” Lucifer asks as if this is the first time he’s heard of it.

Chloe motions Ella to stop talking.

“Yeah, with the Lieu-“she says, flicking her eyes to Chloe in time to catch the signal.

“uuu-cifer,” she finishes, “the date for the … end of …Hannukah.”

“Hannukah?” Lucifer asks, bewilderment behind his eyes, “Why on _earth_ would I care about Hannukah?”

Chloe covers her face in embarrassment. Lucifer just looks at Ella, confused by how her limbs are twitching under the strain of coming up with a lie.

“I got nothing, sorry, Decker,” Ella says, leaning into being a bad liar.

“Thanks, Ella,” Chloe says as Ella walks away. Her words are the same, but this time it is apparent she is _not_ as thankful.

“You had a date with the Lieutenant last night?” Lucifer asks.

Chloe sighs and nods. She crosses her arms.

“Yeah, uh, he …he asked me out, so I said yes.”

“Oh,” Lucifer says stiffly, “I … well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe says, waving him off, “Let’s just get back to work. Okay?”

Lucifer furrows his eyebrows. Chloe turns to walk away, but he reaches out and grabs onto her shoulder. She turns back to him.

“You don’t seem happy at all, Detective,” he says, “is that why you are so distracted?”

Certainly, Lucifer wasn’t happy that Cain had taken an interest in the Detective, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve a good date.

Chloe sighs, “Lucifer, just drop it, okay? Now is not the place.”

His eyebrows furrow deeper, displeased. It was much worse than he thought.

“You didn’t cum, did you?” he says, such disgust in his tone that it catches her off guard.

“Wha- Lucifer!” she says, looking around, “We didn’t …”

She lowers her voice and leans in, “We didn’t have sex,” she whispers.

“Why not?” he asks, confused, “Not that I want you and Pierce to make the beast with two backs, but … did he have performance anxiety?”

“What? Lucifer No I-“

“Or were you having issues with getting aroused towards him?” he asks.

She drops her jaw then crosses her arm, “Lucifer, this is … _entirely_ unprofessional.”

“I agree. I don’t very much like the man myself, but there is no excuse for leaving a woman dissatisfied.”

She shakes her head, shaking this conversation off.

“Let’s just drop this, okay?”

“Oh, I see,” he says, laughing at himself, relieved.

“You didn’t want to. Right. Yes, that would make _far_ more sense.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, and his smile slowly falls. As his smile falls, so do his eyebrows, into an intense furrow.

“Did you?” he asks.

“Lucifer,” she huffs, “I can’t deal with this today. Can we just-“

He tenses his jaw, _greatly_ displeased. He looks around before grabbing her arm and dragging her into a nearby bathroom.

“What are you doing?!” she grunts as he closes the door.

Her cell phone beeps, and she reaches into her pocket to pull it out. It’s a text from her mom. She rolls her eyes and sighs. On top of Lucifer’s prying questions, she did not need her mother today.

He turns to her, closing the distance between them.

“There are many things in this world that I despise, Detective,” he says, “one of them is to see you unhappy.”

Her furrowed eyebrows soften at his admission.

“Lucifer, I’m fine. I mean, sure I’m a little upset because I thought that we had –“

Lucifer begins slipping his jacket off.

She watches him for a second, her annoyance falling into confusion.

She sets her cell phone on the counter.

“What are you doing?” she asks again, this time softer with more curiosity in her tone.

She crosses her arms.

“The other thing I hate is to see a dissatisfied woman,” he says, turning to her and rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves.

She narrows her eyes.

“Lucifer, _what_ are you talking about? Why did you drag me in here?”

“I’m going to make you cum,” he says.

“What?!” she practically screams before shaking her head.

Lucifer shushes her, very aware she might not want others to know what they are about to do.

“Lucifer,” she huffs, moving towards the door, “I don’t have the mental energy for your … _you_ today, okay?”

“You’re distracted,” he says, “you’ve been distracted all morning. You didn’t make a note of any of the inappropriate jokes I made.”

“Maybe they just weren’t funny,” she says, turning to him, her back towards the door.

“We’ve also been on this crime scene for thirty minutes now, and you have yet to ask _any_ questions about it.”

She shakes her head and turns to him, “I … I admit I might be a little preoccupied but …this,” she says, waving her hands around towards him, “is not going to fix it.”

“Chloe,” he says softly, his head tilted down.

It’s soft enough that it forces her to listen, saying nothing of the fact that he used her name. He rarely ever uses her name.

“You’re frustrated. _This_ is not you. Honestly, darling. You need this, and it is clear Pierce hasn’t provided it to you. So … I’m offering my services.”

She scoffs, “Services? What are you a prostitute now?”

He shakes his head, “Just your partner who doesn’t really have much to offer in this partnership except good looks and mojo. If you’re not out there asking the important questions, what are we even doing here?”

She sighs and shakes her head.

“Lucifer,” she begins, her tone softening, “I - I know you are just trying to help but …you have more to offer than just … _this_.”

They stare at each other for a second, and Chloe sighs, “Look, I …this, _us_? It has to stop. It doesn’t work and-“

“No strings attached, Love,” he says, “just honest to father pleasure that will sort you right out. You’re not your best out there, and right now, I can fix that.”

He steps towards her, and she would be a fool to admit her heart didn’t flutter a little.

“Lucifer I-“ she begins, needing to leave, but her legs aren’t moving.

“Lucifer I am not having _sex_ with you in the bathroom of a crime scene,” she huffs.

He shakes his head and walks closer to her, his hands coming to lay around her waist. Immediately she feels a pooling between her legs. She hadn’t felt this when Marcus kissed her.

“Oh, we aren’t going to have sex,” he says, “this has nothing to do with me. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet if I were inside you. I’d make sure of that.”

She narrows her eyes as he gently pushes her towards the wall behind the bathroom door.

He crowds her. She can feel the heat coming off of him, his cologne filling her nostrils.

It's warm and sweet at the same time, and she can’t help but inhale it. The scent fills her lungs with the smell of him, sending butterflies to her stomach. A familiar tingle develops between her legs. It is arousal, unmistakable and heady.

“I-“ she tries to say, her mind protesting, but her eyes keep flipping down to his lips.

His perfectly kissable lips.

“I’m going to give you an orgasm, you’re going to pull yourself together, and you’re going to solve this case in record time,” he says, his hands slowly moving down towards her belt buckle.

“And then, if you’d like, we can discuss if you want to repay the favor. But as I said, no strings attached. As far as I’m concerned, you’re going to leave this bathroom and pretend nothing happened.”

It will be easier for him if she does. It will be easier for both of them, he convinces himself.

He gives her time to say no, but to his surprise, she just watches him, her eyes flipping down to his lips.

“Excellent choice,” he says with a smile as he unbuckles her jeans.

She turns her head towards the bathroom door.

“There are so many other police officers here,” she says, worried, trying to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t be this wet.

“Don’t worry, they won’t know if you don’t make too much noise.”

He unzips her pants and yanks her white shirt out of her jeans.

His eyes lock with hers, so much need and want behind them that it makes it harder not to kiss her. It makes it hard to not pull his wings out right now and fly her to his penthouse. Fly her to where he could spend the day filling her with every inch of himself, taking his time and drawing out every syllable of pleasure from her lips.

His eyes move down to her lips.

He wants to kiss her, but this isn’t about him.

His hands slide into the front of her pants. His fingers play with the elastic waistband of her cotton panties before sliding in and meeting the hot and wet flesh between her legs.

The second his fingers make contact, she gasps.

“Shh,” he says, shushing her, his forehead leaning to touch hers.

His fingers manipulate the swollen lips between her legs before sliding between them, instantly coating them in warm, wet arousal. He hums, pleased by what he finds.

“How long has it been?” he asks.

She blushes and turns her eyes back to the door. Every alarm in her head Is ringing, telling her this is wrong, but his hand …and she’s wet and _fuck_ , she can’t think.

He brings his free hand up and turns her head, so their eyes meet.

“How long?” he asks.

She lowers her eyes to his lips, “I …long,” she says, holding herself back from kissing him, from tasting what is undoubtedly coffee and whiskey on his lips.

He grins and brings his lips so close to hers that she almost meets him halfway. The idea sends a warm flood of arousal between her legs.

“I can tell,” he says, his lips ghosting down the side of her jaw and finally landing on her neck.

“You’re so wet,” he says, as he finally runs his fingers across her clit.

She moans softly into his ear, bringing her hands up to grab onto his waist. Her fists clench onto the edge of his shirt, stretching the already tight shirt even more. It extends the holes of his buttons, allowing her to see mere peaks of the skins beneath. She reaches up and slides a finger into one of the holes, her hands touching the soft skin of his chest.

Her breathing becomes louder, her body hotter, and her legs weaker.

His fingers are soft yet firm and run across her clit with intent. Every once in a while, he slides his fingers lower, feeling every inch of her that he can and toying with her entrance. She is almost ready, begging for him to feel her insides.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

She stares at him, unsure but willing.

“Close your eyes,” he says again, softly.

She closes her eyes, and he coos, leaning in to kiss her neck.

“Imagine I am whoever you desire,” he says, his lips trailing up the heat of her neck.

He can feel her body getting wetter, his fingers finding more slickness with each graze.

She is panting in his ears, her hands gripping tightly to him. When he slides two fingers into her, she tilts her head forward and sinks her teeth into his shoulder to silence the moan. It spills out of her mouth, heating the patch of flesh on his shoulder.

“I am jealous of him,” he whispers, “that he makes you so wet.”

She doesn’t say that it's him she is thinking about. She can’t say anything, not when his fingers so diligently work her insides. The slide in and out, curving through each stroke and hitting the spot inside her with such pinpoint accuracy, a weakness develops in her legs. Her body is so willing to give everything to him, despite her mind on edge telling her she should stop this. This isn’t professional. He is her partner. This won’t end well.

But her mind is all but silenced by the sound of her body. The sound and feeling of his fingers working her pussy, moving inside of her, and making her wetter than she thought she could be.

He touches her in ways she’s only imagined he would, and this was just touching. This wasn’t him inside of her. These were his hands. If she had learned anything about her partner, she knew he hated being called a magician. Yet that is precisely what he is doing to her body, magic.

She lifts her head up, completely possessed by her arousal. The alarms in her head so silenced that she reaches up and makes quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. She snaps the buttons open, just enough that she can set a hand on his chest. He is warm and smooth, and she imagines his chest sliding against hers, his cock buried deep into her.

She moans, able to imagine it when the way his fingers slide in and out of her.

She begins to lower along the wall, her legs getting weaker. He gets closer, keeping her from sinking by pinning her against the wall with his body. She can feel an erection hot and thick against her leg.

Her body responds by getting wetter, needier. He moans as he feels it, her wetness running into his palm.

He grins widely, the breath from his words heating up her neck.

“It seems I have you in the palm of my hands, Darling,” he huffs.

“Lucifer,” she gasps, bringing her hands up to hold onto his neck.

He is flush, as red as she is, as ready as she is.

He growls, hearing his name this way has never sounded sweeter.

“Darling,” he pants, “you have no idea what that does to me.”

But she does. Maybe even he is unaware at the soft pumps he does against her thigh, seeking sweet friction to ease his own growing desire. He times it perfectly with the thrust of his fingers.

She feels his thumb come up and rub softly on her clit. She wraps her arms around his neck, her hips moving in a rhythmless arc, aching for release.

“Lucifer,” she whines again, her voice higher pitched and wanting.

“Come on, Detective,” he says into her ear, “Allow yourself this. I have you. Let go.”

She closes her eyes and tilts her head back before she is sent into a shaking orgasm. She begins to vocalize, but Lucifer quickly covers her mouth with his own. Her moans filter into his lips, and soon they are kissing, deeply and passionately as he continues his ministrations. He curves his fingers hard into her, stroking her G-spot with extreme bias. She groans into his mouth, her hands clenching tightly onto his shirt. Her orgasm extends, and she is sent into a second, slightly painful, release.

“That’s it,” he coos, feeling the walls of her pussy pulse around his fingers. She trembles in his arms, her voice caught in the throat, and her kisses sloppy and passionate against his face.

Eventually, her body slacks against the wall, but thankfully, he still has her pinned. He slowly rubs his thumb around her clit until he can sense she is done. Then, carefully he withdraws his fingers. They are covered in her juices, but he says nothing.

Instead, he carefully pulls himself away from her, making sure she can stand before separating. She is left with a cold and empty feeling that makes her ache for more. But she can’t cry or whimper at his absence, not when her entire body feels … connected.

He takes his clean hand and gently tucks her shirt back into her pants before easily zipping and buttoning it with one hand. She manages her breathing before her eyes shift up to him. He holds his hand away as if it were a prize he never wanted to wash.

“Better?” he asks.

She looks at him, it dawning on her what they just did.

“Ah-ah,” he says, seeing her thinking brain kicking back into gear, “Don’t second guess yourself. A promise is a promise. I imagine you will find yourself very focused on the case now.”

She looks at him, then at the hand he holds away like a surgeon preparing for surgery. The evidence of her arousal glistens in the light from the bathroom.

She blushes and clears her throat.

“Or focused on the fact that I just let my partner finger me in the bathroom at a crime scene.”

“What are partners for if not to assist you in your time of need?” he asks, “and judging by how easy that was, you did need, Detective. Did you not?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head before reaching up and fixing her hair.

She sighs and then crosses her arms. She stares at him, the anxiety coming back so quickly that Lucifer thinks he might have to do it again.

“Am I going to regret this?” she asks, staring at him.

“I hope you don’t,” he says earnestly.

She shakes her head, “I … I don’t know why I-“

“The third thing I detest is when you second guess yourself, Detective,” he says.

She looks at him, so much trust behind her eyes that his heart skips a beat.

She clears her throat and nods.

“Now, get out there and solve a murder,” he says with a smile.

“I can wait until you clean up,” she says, “I might … I might need a moment.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t believe you want to be here for what I’m about to do,” he says.

She stares at him for a second before glancing back at his hand, still covered in her fluids. Her eyes cautiously scan down. Here she takes note of the very rigid erection straining against the crotch of his already tight pants. A blush falls over her face.

“Right,” she says, “Right, I … I should go.”

He nods and watches her leave. The second the door closes, his wet fingers are immediately inside of his mouth. His body slacks, like he had gotten a taste of the most divine thing in the world.

With his fingers still in his mouth and his eyes closed, he begins to unbuckle his pants with his other hand. He zips his zipper down and reaches into his black boxer briefs. The second his hand makes wraps around his cock he groans, intently satisfied. As he groans, the door opens, and he turns to see Chloe coming back in.

He pauses as if he’s been caught. She pauses as if she walked in on something she shouldn’t have.

“I … I forgot my phone,” she says, blushing.

She walks over to the counter and grabs her phone. He stands perfectly still, embarrassment written all over his face. The door closes again, and he moves to lock it.

Outside, a blushing Chloe has a big grin on her face that she can’t get rid of. She calmly walks over to Ella, her shoulders relaxed and her eyes drooped slightly. Ella is crouched, taking a photo of blood splatter on the bedroom wall.

She turns as Chloe stops in front of her.

“Oh!” she says, standing, “I was … I was just going to come look for you. I wanted to apologize for that whole … spilling the beans thing in front of Lucifer that was-“

“It’s okay,” Chloe interrupts, a soft and lazy smile on her face.

“So you’re not mad?” Ella asks.

Chloe shakes her head and shrugs, “It’s fine.”

Ella looks at her suspiciously before nodding, “Did Lucifer hotbox you again?”

Chloe blushes and shakes her head, looking down at the body.

“What? No. No, we didn’t find any drugs.”

“Okay,” Ella says suspiciously.

“So,” Chloe says, clasping her hands in front of her, “I uh …run what we know so far by me again?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe takes Lucifer to a party and ends up finding the perfect situation to lend him a hand.

\-----

He replays those moments in his head.

The soft moans, the wandering hands, his fingers coated in the unmistakable sign of her arousal.

His brief foray into intimacy with the Detective had been life-altering. And despite it not being an equal exchange, it had left him more than wanting.

He was infatuated.

 _Incredibly_ infatuated.

He could still feel her panties fighting against the tilt of his hand as he slid his fingers into her.

He could still feel her body responding so quickly to him like she had been aching to be touched.

It had been the subject of his desire since they met.

Yet, that isn’t what does it.

That isn’t the moment he plays on repeat in his head.

Instead, he replays her unbuttoning his shirt, her eyes dark and hungry, just to lay a hand on his chest. A hand that shook with nerves and excitement.

She touched him like she was feeling his skin, his body, his heart.

What did that mean? and what did it mean that he couldn’t stop thinking about it?

What did it mean that every woman he had brought back to his penthouse since that morning had only gotten parts of him?

Or had he only ever given parts of himself to begin with?

And he’s had a strange ache in his chest. One that pulls at him and yearns to be back in that bathroom. Back locked in that space and feeling her body undulate against him.

She had let him into her space, and he wanted to stay there.

He knew he couldn’t, not when it already felt like he had gotten away with murder.

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to _sleep_ there, from wanting to hear her whisper his name again as if it were a secret.

A secret.

That is what that brief moment of wholeness would be - a secret.

He clears his throat.

What did _that_ mean?

“Okay, I managed to get them to drop it as long as you go over there and apologize,”

He turns, broken from his thoughts, to see Chloe approaching from the other side of the gymnasium.

He shakes his head, “Absolutely not!” he says irritably.

“Lucifer,” she says, already annoyed at Lucifer for ruining yet _another_ one of her outings.

When she had invited him to this retirement party at the local High School, she thought he would be a better, more charming option. Champagne, dancing, and elbow-rubbing seemed much more up Lucifer’s alley, and she was still unsure about Marcus. Yet they had barely gotten an hour in, and he had already assaulted an officer in a room _full_ of badge-carrying, gun-toting members of the LAPD.

“Listen,” she says, putting her hand on her forehead and just trying to make it through this night, “we have some real old-timers in our department, and they have some less than modern views, but that doesn’t mean you have to choke them out.”

“That … _rotter_ was speaking poorly of you, Detective!” he says, not understanding why she isn’t as upset as he is.

“and I appreciate you sticking up for me,” she says, “but who cares what those jackasses think about me?”

“I care!” he snaps.

A thick silence falls over them.

She stares at him for a few moments before nodding and crossing her arms. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft and vulnerable.

“and … _why_ do you care?” she asks, her eyes flipping between his eyes and the ground, uncertain and hoping for an answer this time.

He opens his mouth, trying to will words to come out. Instead, he scoffs and turns his eyes to a group of officers who are staring at him angrily.

“You should have heard what they said about you,” he says, from gritted teeth.

She nods, disappointed in the topic change. In the avoidance. She shakes her head, wondering what else she had expected from him.

“Yeah,” she says, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, “I bet it was something along the lines of … having a great rack, or … probably being a good lay, or something else that makes them think they have any say in what I do with my body, right?”

He looks at her, his eyes narrowed, “Specifically so,” he says.

She sighs before tilting her head.

“I’m no stranger to that kind of comment. I knew I would have to face that kind of criticism when I took the job, and I took it anyway. And you want to know why?”

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes, “because what I do with my future is way more important to me than what I did in my past.”

The anger in Lucifer’s eyes fade slightly, her words sinking deeper than they should.

“I can’t change being in that stupid movie, but I can make a very difficult time for someone’s family a little easier,” she says, “that’s my job. That’s what I enjoy doing, and I’m not going to let _anyone_ distract me from that. No matter how low they go.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the group of men. She turns around to see them staring in return and sighs.

“You’re still angry,” she says, seeing how he watches them.

“Darling, those men aren’t men at all. They are cowards,”

“Come on, let’s take a walk,” she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the gymnasium.

They walk through a set of double doors and enter a hallway lined by lockers and empty classrooms.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night, Detective,” he says.

She sighs and wraps her arm around him as they walk.

She doesn’t respond to him. Instead, she pulls his arm closer.

“To be clear, I’m apologizing for the method of punishment, not the act of punishment itself,” he continues.

She scoffs and shakes her head.

“I would have chosen something far more painful if I had the tools, namely Maze.”

Slowly her offense falls into amusement. After the incident earlier this week, when she had allowed him to touch her in … _inappropriate_ ways, he had been different. Now it seems he is back to his normal self.

She leans to rest her head against his shoulder.

“I think they are just angry because I’m _pretty_ sure they have tiny dicks,” she says.

He huffs, amused, and nods, “The Detective making a colorful joke? I think you’ve had one too many glasses of champagne, my dear.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls her head away from his shoulder.

“I don’t know, I haven’t come onto you yet. So I think I’m still in the clear,” she jokes.

His smile falls slightly, as do his shoulders. He turns back ahead of them as they reach a crossroads in the hallway.

To the left, more lockers and a classroom.

In front of them are two double doors that lead to a parking lot, and to their right, a hallway that leads to another hallway. She turns to him, his eyes looking around, but it is clear his mind is someplace else.

“Lucifer,” she says, worried, noticing him fall back into that strangely introspective place.

“What’s wrong, really?” she asks, rubbing his back, “You’ve been … _different_ all week.”

“I just … I wanted tonight to be perfect for you, Detective.”

She smiles and shakes her head, “This isn’t a date,” she says.

“Yes, so you’ve mentioned,” he says, “multiple times, in fact.”

“Just making sure.”

He sighs and looks around.

“This way?” he asks, nodding to the right.

She smiles and walks with him as they continue down the hallway, further into the school. She holds onto him, and she can feel it. The anger and tension that is tightly coiled in his body. He seems stressed about something.

She sighs, something is up with him, and she isn’t sure she likes it. The Lucifer she invited to this party was meant to be charming and boisterous. He was meant to turn an otherwise boring event into an enjoyable evening out on the town. One worth getting a babysitter and dressing up.

“Come on, we’re not going to spend all night walking around a High School are we?” she asks, annoyed, “Tell me I didn’t get all dressed up just for my night to be ruined by those jackasses.”

He scoffs, amused as she continues to rub his back.

“You do look _positively_ ravishing,” he replies.

She smiles and nods, “I know.”

He laughs, and there is a hint of the carefree partner she is used to.

“So? Are you ready to apologize?“

His laughter falls into a displeased groans of protest.

“The only thing I am apologetic about is adding a damper to your evening out,” he says, “nothing more.”

She groans, “Lucifer ...”

“That man deserves far more than a hand around his neck! Quite frankly, I’m not sure what there is to find offense about on my part. I’m certain he has a good wank with a belt around his neck before. My hand should have been _exciting_.”

She narrows her eyes, not at all wanting to picture that.

She pulls away from him and crosses her arms.

“Lucifer, I got dressed up for this! I got a babysitter for this! I mean … I wore heels!”

He pauses, not expecting her to be as upset.

“Heels!” she says, pointing to her feet.

He looks down, taking more note of how great they make her legs look than the fact that she is wearing them.

“So we’re going to go back, and you are going to apologize-“

He opens his mouth to protest, but she stops him.

“ _Then_ we are going to drink all the free champagne, listen to a stupid speech, eat moderately priced food, and dance a little. Like adults.”

He grunts, irritated.

“Can you _please_ do that for me?” she asks.

He turns his eyes to her, there is still anger behind them. He regards her for a moment before a small, placating smile falls onto his face.

“For you,” he says, nodding.

He turns to walk back towards the gym, but she holds onto his arm.

“Nuh-uh, you’re still riled up. Let’s keep walking there Beelzebub,” she says

He huffs, amused, and slightly offended by her nickname.

Together they walk further down the hall in silence.

He glances at her every once in a while, the anger fading into confusion.

Confusion about why his chest felt like it was going to explode. His eyes shift to the side, watching her with her loose hair and perfectly tailored dress. He had seen far more skin in his club, but somehow this does it for him. She was put together, but he wanted to watch her … no, _feel_ her, fall apart.

Shit, now he is thinking about it again.

They reach another crossroad in the hallway, and she turns to him, prepared to suggest they turn back.

Their eyes lock, and she stares so deeply into him that he suddenly feels stripped bare, naked, but not in the way he is used to. Not in a fun way.

They stand there for a moment in silence before her eyes fall and begin to trail down his body. She pauses, and then her head tilts as if something suddenly dawned on her.

“Are you still angry?” she asks, her eyes doing that thing where she is clearly still in the middle of a thought.

Only seconds after she speaks does she turn her eyes to him, waiting for an answer.

He sighs and nods, “I assure you I am not trying to be -”

Her eyes stop and pause on his crotch, taking a good long look. She then turns behind her, making sure they are alone.

He pauses mid-sentence, unsure how to parse how she is suddenly looking at him.

“Lucifer?”

She steps closer to him, pulling him in by the fabric of his jacket.

“I think you need to relax a little,” she says, a sneaky smile starting in the corner of her mouth.

He grunts, “Detective, I –“

He pauses when he feels her hand on his chest. A hand that slowly begins to fall, trailing down his chest towards his abs. The disbelief enters his eyes, and a giant smile curls onto her face.

“Detective?”

“Do you want to feel relaxed?” she asks.

Her hand slides further down his abdomen and past his belt, before landing on the crotch of his slacks.

He inhales deeply as she palms him through his slacks with a lovely pressure that begins to send blood rushing to his cock. She rubs him with very little hesitation. They both look down at her hand, watching as she easily seeks out the bulge in his pants.

She feels him growing beneath her hand. She takes that as a yes and moves to undo his belt.

His reaction is fast and catches her off guard. She yelps when he grips her wrist and holds it away from him.

“Detective, what are you doing?” he asks, his eyes turning down the hall that leads to the gymnasium.

“What do you mean?” she asks, “I’m lending you a _hand_.”

“Well,” he huffs, pleased, “Taking a play out of my book, I see. But I do not require or expect anything from-“

She shakes her head, “I’m simply repaying a favor.”

“That particular favor didn’t have a repayment plan last I recall.”

“Maybe,” she nods, not making a comment about the fact that he is still holding onto her wrist.

“But we are partners,” she continues, “Partnership is about equal give and take. I believe the tables are a little uneven, don’t you think?”

He just stares at her, his eyes softening as she speaks. He is torn between two halves.

One half wants to strip her bare and fuck her until both of them are mere pieces of their former selves. Then there is the half that doesn’t think it could bear the fallout. He was already lost in a spiral of endless pining and misery from their interaction earlier in the week.

“You did something for me, now I need to do something for you. Otherwise, I will always owe you.”

“You will never be in debt to me for anything,” he says with conviction, “ _Ever_.”

She smiles, “That’s sweet,” she says, a soft smile on her face as she brings her other hand up to caress the side of his face.

“Now let go of my hand,” she says sternly, the sweetness removed from her voice.

Her words are an order, and they tell him all he needs to know about her intentions.

“Detective,” he pleads, his heart racing in his chest.

They lock in a stare, neither looking away nor backing down.

He watches her, the gears turning in her head. Her doubt and desire fighting a war in her. He tilts his head, his own reservations suddenly blindsided by watching it. By watching her desire win at every turn.

Desire to … please him?

“Let me do this for you,” she says.

He stares at her for a moment before gently letting go of her wrist. He nods slowly.

Two men enter their peripheral. They turn to see the men holding unlit cigarettes in their hands.

“That’s when I got a call from another cop-,” they hear before the conversation fades as the two men walk through the double doors that lead outside.

Chloe turns to pull Lucifer out of the center of the hallway. They walk around the corner, and she lets go of him, letting him lean against a wall.

She smiles and steps forward into his space. She looks around the corner again before bringing her hand up to his crotch. She palms his growing erection with her newly freed hand.

“I would ask you how long it’s been, but that would be pointless,” she says, chuckling as she rubs him through his pants.

He just stares at her, wild disbelief in his eyes.

“So… instead, I’ll say it’s been a while since I’ve …,” she says, clearing her throat, arousal coursing through her veins, “ _touched_.”

His disbelief turns into a smile as he watches her. As he soaks in every detail of her form.

“By all means, touch away,” he says, his voice low and warm.

She continues to rub him through his pants, the bulge getting bigger and more noticeable by the second.

“Can I … uhm?” she asks, looking at him.

“Do as you please, Darling. I’m yours.”

She smiles and bites her lip as she quickly begins to unbuckle his pants. Her hands shake with nerves and excitement.

“ _My_ ,” he huffs, “someone is eager.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and brings his hand around to lay on her lower back, just above the roundness of her ass, before pulling her closer to him.

She giggles, adrenaline and arousal coursing through her system. He leans into her.

“You smell delightful,” he coos.

She tilts her head into the gentle kisses he lays on her neck, her hands impatiently working the button on his slacks.

“I bet you taste just as good.”

She hums, pleased by his kisses.

“You don’t have to guess,” she says, “I saw you with your fingers in your mouth.”

She unbuttons his pants and lowers the zipper. She slides a hand inside his pants to find nothing but bare skin.

He isn’t wearing underwear.

She sinks her hand lower to find more skin.

He is shaved smooth.

She hums with anticipation, her eyes darkening as she sinks her hand even lower and immediately seeks out the rising, hot flesh of his cock. She dances her fingers across it, not at all surprised to find him already semi-hard.

“You caught that, did you?” he grins, pulling his face away from hers to see her eyes.

She blushes.

They hear laughter and pause. They both turn to peep around the corner to see two more men, glasses of champagne in their hands, heading towards the double door at the end of the hall.

Chloe clears her throat and turns back to Lucifer. They lock eyes.

“Maybe we should do this in a more private place,” he says, “Might I suggest my penthouse?”

She shakes her head, “I’m not leaving here, Lucifer. You know how long it took me to get into this dress?”

“Longer than I imagine it would take to get you out of it,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

She rolls her eyes and smiles, “Keep dreaming. I’m just evening the score.”

“Well, if we are aiming to be equal, then technically, the score is two to zero in favor of the home team.”

“Is it?” she says, willing to play along, her fingers wrapping around his cock and slowly massaging him.

“Don’t think I didn’t take note of that lovely little aftershock,” he says low and warm into her ear.

“You _were_ paying attention. I didn’t know you were capable of that.”

He grins, “When it comes to you, Detective. There isn’t a single thing I miss,” he says, practically humming into her ear as he goes back to laying kisses on her neck.

She doesn’t miss how his hand casually wraps around her ass, squeezing her firmly.

She smiles and turns her attention back to her hand, which by now is softly stroking and pulling on him. She can hear his breath louder in her ear.

She massages him, paying attention to rub her thumb across the head of his cock every few strokes. It elicits a pleasing sound from him, and an even more pleasing reaction as his arousal becomes more and more apparent.

“Detective,” he huffs, surprised.

“You aren’t the only one with experience,” she says, staring him down with interest.

“Dare I say you might be enjoying this more than I am,” he grins.

She doesn’t say anything, a knowing smile on her face, “I like to feel it grow in my hands.”

“You should feel it elsewhere,” he huffs, rotating his hips into her grip.

She grins, “It’s the one part of a man that never lies.”

“I would never lie to you,” he says, his voice slightly breathy.

He swallows his spit, his eyes flipping down to her lips.

“Never?” she asks.

“Never,” he says, his lids getting droopy.

He is fully erect now. She can feel it, and curiosity starts to take over. She reaches out and pulls the flap of his pants to the side, just enough to give her room to pull his cock out.

Outside of his pants, there is little room to hide the massive erection that juts weightily from his body. It stops her breath for a moment.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before, but seeing it this way was a different experience. Engorged and full of hot blood, he was large and plump and perfect.

She lets go of an astonished chuckle before stroking him again slowly.

Her eyes flip up to his to find him staring back at her with eyes that are incredibly dark, pupils wide with pride.

“Oh, don’t gloat,” she says, annoyed.

He chuckles and begins to roll his hips in time with her strokes. She watches him move, in awe of how his body moves so fluidly.

He moans, and she shushes him before turning to peek around the corner. The coast is still clear.

“Darling, how do you expect me to keep quiet when it seems my third most reoccurring fantasy is happening.”

She blushes and smiles.

“If this is number three, what is number one and two?”

He grins, “Filling your pussy and your mouth, in that order.”

She furrows her eyebrows, “Like number one and number two, or like … back to back?”

“We could go back to my place and find out,” he coos.

She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to what she is doing.

Lucifer hums, lifting his shirt up slightly so he can get a better view of her working him. It allows her a better view of his lower abs and the muscles that carve a pathway to his groin.

She stares at it, heated arousal pooling between her legs.

This was _bad_ , she thinks.

The kind of things she was thinking about doing do his body … it … _she can’t_.

They are partners, _only_ partners, that much he has made apparent.

He lets go of a soft moan again, his hips crashing into her palm. She is barely doing anything now, but keeping her pressure firm as his hips roll in and out of her spread fingers.

He leans up, pulling a hand to cradle the side of her face. He leans in and kisses her with a kiss that turns quickly from sweet to passionate. Their tongues dart over one another, their panting joint and free, until suddenly she pushes him away. He hits the wall again with a strength that forces breath from his lungs.

“This is bad, Lucifer,” she says, her head shaking.

“Oh?” he asks.

“Yea,” she admits, “this could get _so_ messy.”

He grins at her, and she can feel his happiness pulse through his cock.

“Who are we to ignore fate, Darling?”

“This is _bad_ ,” she repeats.

He leans down to kiss the side of her neck again.

“But I could make it so good,” he moans, his tongue extending to lick the back of her ear.

She visibly shudders before feeling her panties get ten times wetter.

She huffs and shrugs him away from her.

“Okay. New plan,” she says, her eyes incredibly dark.

Lucifer lets go of a warm and knowing chuckle.

“I’m going to make you cum, you’re going to apologize, we’re going to drink a few more glasses of champagne, and then you’re going to take me back to your penthouse and get me out of this fucking dress.”

Lucifer stares at her for a moment, eyes wide.

“Do I have to apologize?” he counters.

She grins, “You’re going to _grovel,”_ she says.

He furrows his eyebrows, not sure about this particular part of the plan.

She bites her lip, her hand wrapped lovingly around his cock. She quickens the pace her pulls until the sound of her first slapping against the base of his cock with each stroke is audible.

He huffs, small groans coming from him. He leans away from her to watch what she is doing. She, in turn, watches him, a heated gaze taking in everything.

He curses under his breath.

She peeks around the corner to check, then she reaches her free hand and reaches out to massage his testicles.

He puts his hand in his mouth to keep from groaning as his eyes roll back in his head.

“Bloody hell, Chloe!” he huffs.

She grins.

“I was married, remember?” she asks, “I know all the spots. Especially this one.”

She slides her thumb beneath his testicles and pushes it into the sensitive patch of skin between his legs.

He swallows his spit, his mouth suddenly dry from the panting.

His jaw opens, whispered, “Oh’s” escaping his mouth as he slowly thrusts his hips into her moving grip.

He leans his head back to close his eyes. Here, he digs into the fantasy of her.

In his fantasy, she whispers his name into his ear, his hands holding onto her waist as he stretches her in ways that make her legs jitter. She is warm and dripping, her body pliable from hours of sex.

His eyes pop open to a sensation he hadn’t expected. He tilts his head down to find Chloe squatting in front of him, her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. He grunts, her hands working in tandem with her lips to drag him toward a release.

“Vixen!” he hisses, his hand coming up to hold onto the back of her head.

She looks up at him, watching him as he rolls his hips into her mouth. He moans and tilts his head back.

Neither of them are paying attention to the hallway anymore, too lost in their own pleasure.

“Darling,” he huffs, his neck red and his eyes damn near closed.

She recognizes the look of a man close to climax and locks herself into her rhythm. His face scrunches up more, and he begins to pant louder. He widens his stance, locking his feet to the ground. She moves her mouth off him with an audible pop.

“I’m here,” she says, staring at him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, he moans. It sounds needy and light. She bites her lip, her eyes ping-ponging between his.

“You know what I would really desire right now?” she asks, her hand still stroking him with steady pressure and rhythm.

He shakes his head wildly, chasing his own release. She leans forward and nibbles at the base of his cock.

He groans into it before she slides her free hand up his chest and slowly drags it down, her nails sinking into his skin.

“I want you to cum for me,” she whispers, as if it were a secret for his cock and his cock alone.

“Chloe...,” he moans, and her hand free hand immediately moves between her legs at the mention of her name.

“Yeah?” she moans, her hand moving light lightning between her legs.

She strokes him faster, and he presses himself up against the wall, his face tight with need.

He doesn’t finish whatever he is about to say. His jaw slacks, and he looks down to watch, his entire face scrunched as he breathes through his mouth.

“Are you going to give me what I want?” she asks.

They both watch as her hand moves with ease and urgency across his cock, her glides lubricated by saliva. Then she switches her pattern and spends more time on the head of his cock and less time on his shaft.

He pants and closes his eyes, his hips no longer moving but static. Extended out as if he were trying to get as much of him as possible into her hands.

She increases her speed again, the audible sound of how wet his cock is no doubt traveling down the empty hallway.

He holds on to her head, his jaw wide open, and his panting getting louder.

“You going to give me what I _desire_?” she asks, using his word against him.

Immediately he moans, “Chloe,” he says tensely.

She knows that sound.

She instantly plants her mouth around his cock, her effort now wild and fervent.

She is rewarded quickly as he groans before pushing down on her head, sinking him further into her mouth before he lets himself go.

His release is hot and plentiful, and she hums with pleasure as she slowly encourages him to give her more with well-timed strokes.

He huffs, his hips thrusting into her mouth through each spurt.

Then he hisses when the crescendo of his orgasm is over, and all that Is left is the small aftershock. An aftershock accompanied by smaller gushes of warmth Chloe takes in stride.

“Chloe,” he pants, still in shock of what just happened.

She responds with a pleased hum, her hand still rubbing circles between her legs. She suckles on him slowly until its clear she won’t get anything else out of him.

Then she stands, wipes her lips with her thumb, and swallows.

“Better?” she asks.

His eyes brighten, and he shakes his head and chuckles.

A deep grin appears on his face, and he pulls her into a kiss. He happily sticks his tongue in her mouth, scraping for remnants of himself.

She giggles into his kiss before pulling him away.

“What is that, two to one now?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Detective.”

“I don’t know, it seems like I am winning.”

He smiles, it seemingly permanently plastered on his face. She looks down to see he is still incredibly hard, no sight of him going flaccid anytime soon. She stares at it for a while before reaching out and grabbing onto him again.

“Oh, round two?” he asks.

“Wha… you’re still hard,” she says, surprised.

“Very short recover period, Darling. It is what makes me such an expert lover … among other things.”

She rolls her eyes, then smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress.

“Well put it away,” she says, peeping down the hallway.

She is happy to find it empty, given they hadn’t been very diligent about checking those last few moments.

“Or,” Lucifer counters, “we could do you. I’m sure you could use a little _assistance_.”

“That’s not part of the plan,” she says.

“Oh come on, when is the next time we’ll have the opportunity to have sex in public?”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he sighs, resigned.

“Fine, but as soon as we are back to my penthouse, I want my face between those legs of yours.”

She nods, her eyes flipping down to his lips.

“For once, we are in agreeance,” she replies.

She watches as he silently tucks himself back into his pants.

Doubt enters her mind about whether or not she should have done that. The bathroom incident had made things complicated enough without adding her blowing him in the hallway of a High School.

She supposes this whole thing did start with her wanting a cock in her mouth.

“Shall we?” Lucifer grins to her, his elbow held out.

She clears her throat, knocked out of her thought process.

She intertwines her arm with his, and slowly they walk down the hallway in the direction they came. She can feel the jitters in her legs, side effects of her still being _very_ aroused.

“I’m going to be wet all night,” she huffs.

He grins, “If you want me to be less erect, Detective, perhaps you should keep your musings about that pussy of yours to yourself.”

She turns to him, then glances down at the obvious outline of his erection in his pants.

She stops in her tracks and sighs.

“We can’t go in there with you like that!” she says.

“Perhaps you should take me into your mouth again? We are still very uneven.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to look down the hallway.

“I’m going to go freshen up,” he says, warmly into her ear.

She turns to him, her eyes immediately snapping to his lips. He nods towards the restroom sign, and she nods in return.

“Right, I should probably …wash my hands,” she says.

He grins, and together they walk a few feet to the restrooms. He ducks into the little boy's room, and she enters the little girl's room.

When she comes to the other side of the divider wall, she is faced with a giant mirror that spells out her arousal in big, red letters.

Her neck, the one that had been cool and ivory beneath the green lace of her dress, was bright red. Her pupils were wide and blown out with arousal and her hair – from Lucifer’s impromptu grabbing – was tousled. She looked like she had _absolutely_ just done something she shouldn’t have.

She washes her hands in the sink, fixes her hair, and then cleans up the slightly smudged lipstick on her face.

She washes her mouth out with water before briefly wiping her neck with a cool paper towel.

Once she is done, she drops her arms and stares at herself in the mirror.

She shakes her head, able to fix everything but how dark her pupils look. She’s still thinking about him moving his hips into her mouth.

This is _bad_ , she thinks.

This is really bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for a chapter two, but I got so much feedback asking for a Chloe payback that I decided to add one. I hope it pleases you. I tried lol 😈


	3. Chapter 3

\----

The air inside the elevator is thick with possibility, yet both Chloe and Lucifer are silent.

Despite a heated conversation and the awkward apology from Lucifer, the rest of their evening out had been quiet, albeit tense.

They ate, exchanging small glances here and there.

They drank, their eyes swapping lewd commentary.

They danced, perhaps a little too close for the discerning eye.

The night went on as planned, quiet, pleasant.

Tense.

Incredibly tense.

If the normal sexual tension between them was thick, this was concrete.

It needed something more than a knife to cut through it if the small glances Chloe tossed his way were any indication.

Lucifer had seen desire before, but this was something else. He had spent most of the evening shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to calm the rising and impatient erection between his legs, but here – inside the elevator – there is no room to shift.

No room to _not_ be uncomfortable.

He had expected her to back out of her plan, and, in his defense, so did she.

They both had thought that, somewhere between being jettisoned into boring conversations about open cases and sophomore plays, her mind would be taken off of her immediate need to be fucked.

Then her thinking brain, her Detective's brain, would kick in, and she would ask to be taken home.

Then they would carry on their partnership as they always have.

Like it was nothing more than a partnership.

Like nothing had happened.

They would be - relatively - platonic as they always had been.

He had expected her to want sleep more than him. He had expected to go home, wank himself blind, and hope this evening wouldn’t be the last time they dove into more physical intimacy.

But that was before she had turned to him and informed him – not requested – it was time to go.

That was before she called the babysitter to verify that she would be out for a little longer.

That was before they drove in silence to LUX and before they climbed into the elevator that would take him to his penthouse.

It is possibly the slowest the elevator has ever gone, each second growing heavier with anticipation. He could practically feel the stretched rubber band between them about to pop.

There is no room to pretend this isn’t happening.

No room to hide behind naivety and conjecture.

This is happening.

This is _actually_ happening.

Lucifer is the first to break the silence.

“It truly was a lovely evening,” he offers, nerves audible in his voice.

The downside to her being immune to his charms is that he couldn’t read her. He couldn’t figure out what she wanted, what she desired, without her telling him. He was literally flying in the dark.

She hums and nods.

Her lack of response makes him more nervous.

When the door opens with a ding, Lucifer holds his hands out and offers a small smile.

“After you,” he says.

She smiles and enters, her eyes looking around as if she hadn’t seen this place before.

“I never thought I’d be doing the walk of shame _into_ your penthouse,” she muses, eyeing his bookshelf.

Stalling.

He slips off his jacket and walks to the bar before pulling out a bottle of wine from the mini-fridge.

“Twenty fourteen Syrah,” he smiles as he produces two wine glasses.

She turns and drapes a sweater over the small clutch she set on the piano. He approaches behind her, expertly pouring her a glass of wine with full hands.

He hands her the glass, and she willingly accepts, her eyes never leaving him.

He watches her watching him, his stomach suddenly filled with butterflies.

She watches him, her eyes dark in a manner that makes him completely nervous. Even during their small dates and passing kisses, her eyes never looked this dark.

She never looked this _hungry_.

“Detective,” he says as he pours himself a glass, “I am a man of my word, but … I won’t be offended if you decide this isn’t what you want.”

She sips her wine, not responding, but also not taking her eyes off him.

“We can still have quite a lovely end to our evening. We can sit on the veranda,” he says, pointing to the closed doors of his balcony, “and drink wine if you’d like. The city looks wonderful at night.”

She stares at him with little response. Her mouth drinks the wine, but her eyes drink him in.

When she doesn’t reply, he clears his throat and takes a sip of his wine.

He can’t read her.

He can sense her desire, that much is obvious, but everything else …

They watch each other while sipping, her eyes falling down his body.

“Honestly, Darling,” he says,” If you’re nervous I-“

“I’m not nervous,” she finally responds, turning to set the glass on the piano.

“Oh?” he says.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve had sex I … I don’t know which position I want to do first,” she says, turning back to him.

His eyes rise, and a smile curls onto his lips, “Oh?” he says again, this time with warmth and intrigue behind it.

She kicks off her heels and immediately shortens by two inches.

“You keep telling me how great of a lover you are,” she says.

She steps forward, places a hand on his chest, and slowly walks him back towards the couch. His calves hit the front of the seat, and she pushes him. He falls onto the couch and spills a little wine on the seat and his hands.

She lifts her leg up and straddles him on the couch.

“What is your suggestion?” she asks.

She immediately leans in and starts to kiss him, her tongue begging for entrance into his lips.

“Darling, at least let me put the wine down first!” he laughs between her lips.

She sits back, and he switches the glass to his dry hand. He holds out his wine-stained hand, surveying the damage. Luckily none of it landed on his white shirt.

“Do I want you to fuck me from behind? Or Do I want you on top of me?” she asks, thinking outloud.

“ _or_ do I want to be on top?” she asks.

He grins as she slides herself closer, and he immediately feels the heat pouring from between her legs. The scent of her body wafts up into his face, and he groans. He can smell her arousal, thick and pungent.

She smells just like she tastes.

Sweet.

She grabs his hand, and he allows her to slip his fingers into her mouth. She licks off the spilled wine. She moans as she sucks his fingers, her body starting to grind against him.

He watches her, her tongue sliding between his fingers before she sucks them individually. He tilts his head as he watches, his eyes growing darker.

The nerves he had in his body giving way to lust. He didn’t understand the ache in his chest, but he understood this.

“You’ve been starved, Detective,” he says, his voice low and warm, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone so in need of cock.”

She immediately bursts out into laughter, pulling his fingers from her mouth. He grins widely, and she playfully smacks him on the shoulder.

“I’m serious,” he says with a chuckle, “It’s quite arousing.”

She hums and grabs the glass of wine in his hands. She takes a sip and leans backward to set it on the coffee table.

“You have an hour to talk to me like that,” she says, turning back to him.

Her hands immediately go for the buttons of his shirt.

“Do I now?” he asks, amused.

His hands slide along the side of her legs before slipping beneath the fabric of her dress and landing directly on the flesh of her ass cheeks.

His cock twitches.

Is she not wearing underwear?

“Tell me,” he says, “how long has it been? Truly?”

She bites her lip, her body still grinding against him. She can feel him growing beneath her.

“Uhm,” she says, blushing, “about two years.”

He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head, “Darling, that should be a crime in and of itself. We should call it reckless abandonment.”

She grins and shakes her head, “really now?” she asks, amused.

“And what should my punishment be?”

She sits back, pulling his shirt open.

“How do you stay sane? Do you toy with yourself?”

She smiles and nods, her hands sliding down his chest.

“I have a vibrator,” she says.

“When was the last time you used it?”

“You really want to talk about my masturbatory practices right now?” she huffs.

“I want to know what makes that pussy of yours happy,” he coos.

She smiles and leans in to kiss the side of his neck. He hums into it.

“Why don’t you find out?” she asks, kissing down to his collar bone before tossing her hair to the side and nibbling on the stubble by his jaw.

A hand comes up and she runs her thumb across his nipple. He hisses in delight and presses her body further down on top of him.

“Oh, I intend to.”

She chuckles warmly before her mouth crawls up to his lips and they lock into a kiss again. He holds her body down to his, grinding against her.

He is fully erect now and can feel how wet she is through the fabric of his pants.

He narrows his eyes, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Are you wearing panties, Darling?”

She grins and nods, “How about you take off this dress and find out? You did promise me you would take it off.”

“That I did.”

He sits up, shifting their bodies slightly. She giggles as he pulls his arms around her back and unzips her dress. He helps her pull her arms from the sleeves, and she shrugs out of it to reveal a sensible black bra.

His eyes fall to it, and he sees the first glimpse of an insecure Chloe.

“I would have worn a sexy one if I thought … you know, that someone else would see me in it,” she smiles, a red flush on her cheeks.

“If these aren’t sexy,” he says, “I don’t think my heart could take the sexy ones.”

He leans in to sink his teeth into her naked collarbone

She sighs into his touch, pushing her chest forward. He pulls his hands around her back and opens the snaps on her bra with ease. Again her arms slide out of her bra straps, and she sits bare-chested on his lap as he tosses the bra aside. She watches as his eyes turn to her breasts, and he takes them in.

He huffs, in awe before leaning in and immediately pulling a breast into his mouth. She hums as he licks and sucks.

She tilts her head back, feeling his hands climb up to rest on the sides of her ribs. He holds her as he sucks and licks on her nipple. He is unable to decide which breast he prefers, so he goes back and forth between both.

He flicks his tongue across her nipple, and she moans his name.

The second his name leaves her lips, he wraps his arm around her, turns, and flips her onto her back on the couch. She reaches out and grabs his arm as a reflex.

“Lucifer!” she says, surprised.

“Enough of this,” he says, carefully peeling her dress off the rest of her body.

She laughs at his impatience, but then worry enters her eyes.

“Don’t rip it!” she says, rocking her lips as he peels the dress off her body.

“I don’t care about the bloody dress!” he huffs.

With the dress off, he turns to find her wearing only a small black thong—the last interference between what he wants and what she needs.

He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it aside before leaning in and kissing her. She spreads her legs for him, letting his body slide between them as he kisses.

“You’re going to wish I had more than an hour,” he says, kissing her neck, his weight pressing her into the couch.

She can feel him, hot and hard between her legs.

He rocks against her, the stiffness of his cock creating friction that hits her clit just right. She moans as he sucks on her neck.

Her hands slide down his back before landing on his ass, holding him close to her. He leans back, watching her face as he grinds his cock along her body. They were still somewhat clothed, but he could feel how swollen with arousal she was.

He leans back in, kissing her neck, then her collarbone, before moving down the center of her stomach.

She pants, her torso squirming beneath his kisses.

When he finally reaches down to crotch of her panties, he nuzzles the fabric beneath his nose. He breathes her in and fills his lungs with her scent. He groans before sticking his tongue out and licking her moisture off.

She huffs, amused.

“What is the score again, Darling?” he asks.

She thinks for a moment, her brain foggy with want.

“Uh … two to one?”

He smiles and crooks a finger beneath the crotch of her thong. He pulls it aside to reveal her glistening pussy.

“I think you’re about to score another point,” he says.

He leans in and licks one long lap up her pussy, spreading her lips with his tongue.

She hums and then gasps as his tongue reaches the top, and flicks at her clit. Then he does it again, except this time, his tongue goes deeper and feels thicker. She spreads her legs more for him, and he brings his hands up to hold her legs open.

If she were shy about being exposed to him, that is out the window because there is nothing that he can’t see or taste now.

And he does just that. He licks and expertly swirls his tongue around. It is clear Lucifer has control of every muscle in his body, and his tongue _is_ a muscle. He moves it like a snake, slithering between her folds and curving in on itself. It is absolutely sinful, and she openly moans and gasps through it.

“Lucifer!” she cries as she turns her head to watch his tongue and his ministrations.

The feeling was heavenly, but the view was downright pornographic.

He is staring at her with shimmering, black eyes, willing her to watch him touch her body in a way she didn’t know was possible.

“Lucifer!” she moans, her head rocking back and forth.

 _Jesus_ , she thinks.

_Holy shit._

Just when she thinks she can’t take anymore, she feels the pressure of his fingers sliding into her wet heat. She feels them inside her, curling and curving and touching her in that spot that makes her eyes roll back into her head.

Her jaw opens, and her breath momentarily gets stuck in her lungs.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she whines.

He stops dead in his tracks and pulls his face up.

“Can you _please_ not mention that name?” he asks, upset.

“S-S-Sorry I, force of habit,” she huffs.

“Yes well, he’s not the one eating you out. If you’re going to yell anyone’s name it should be mine.”

“Sorry.”

He goes back to what he is doing, back to having ridiculous control over his tongue.

“Ungh,” she grunts, unable to vocalize what she wants to say.

He hums.

Better.

He licks and slurps as his fingers slide in and out of her.

She reaches out and grabs onto his hair, carding her fingers through it before closing her fist and grabbing onto a chunk of hair.

The pain makes him groan, his cock harder than it had any reason being. He begins to slowly pump his hips against the couch, seeking some friction.

“Fuck!” she screams, her voice breathy.

It’s so good it feels like he is touching her brain, some strange part of her that had an itch she didn’t know needed to be scratched. She can feel his fingers curving into her in the tip of her toes. It is almost overwhelming.

She spreads her legs wider, opening herself further to him. A part of her wishes he was already inside of her.

He chuckles warmly, his tongue changing patterns and moving in a different direction. It folds over itself, slithering in waves, his own _sine_ language.

He shuts his eyes, taking in the smell and taste of her. He curves his fingers, pushing into her harder and faster.

She is loud now, moaning and speaking in incoherent cries.

He could do this forever. He could watch her fall apart for eternity.

But all good things must come to an end.

She reaches a second hand out and grabs his head, pushing him closer to her body. Seconds later, her legs clamp shut around his head, and she falls deathly silent.

He can feel her pussy clamp onto his fingers, vibrating with an intensity he doubts she’s ever had.

She’s cumming, and _hard._

He continues plunging his fingers in and out of her, making sure to curl them just right.

When she is done, the tightness around his head and neck dissipates as her body falls flat. She is panting, her head tilted to the side as if her skull were suddenly much heavier. Her eyes are shut, and her neck is bright red.

He pulls his fingers out and licks her, staying away from what he imagines is an incredibly sensitive clit. She hums into it as he reaches his dry hand up and slides it down her body. Her body pops and jolts beneath his hands, her nerves still live and sensitive.

He coos a her body, so responsive.

He kisses her on her inner thigh, then the crease between her lips and her thigh. He kisses his way all the way up her body until he reaches her deeply hooded eyes.

She stares back at him, a dazed and mindless glance. He grins widely.

“Seems we stopped those pesky thoughts, Detective.”

She giggles, warm and relaxed. It injects energy back into her form and she turns to him.

Her eyes slowly track down to his lips, his mouth glistening with wetness. Her smile slowly falls, and the mindless glance behind her eyes turns dark.

He is completely beside himself with pride at what he has done to her.

“Condom,” she demands.

His smile falls.

“What? Now? Darling, we have-“

“I can’t take it anymore,” she demands again, “I , just … get one, please. I swear to God if you-“

He huffs and pulls himself away from her, “Okay! No need to bring my Father into this.”

He slides off his pants and kicks them to the side before quickly walking towards his steps. In his haste, he trips over the steps and catches himself before continuing to his bed stand.

Meanwhile, Chloe reaches down and slides the wet thong off her body, jitters running through her system.

It’s nervousness and excitement, and despite the soft chorus of “no, no, no” in the back of her mind, her body is relaxed. Quite honestly, she couldn’t care less about the consequences.

This was happening.

With Lucifer.

Right now.

She reaches out and sips on the wine glass.

It was bound to happen. She wants him, and he wants her, and they are adults.

This won’t change a thing, right?

She hears him curse under his breath as he sifts through his nightstand.

“Everything okay?” she says, turning her head to the bedroom.

“Yes, just … one moment!”

She hears him quickly walk into the bathroom before hearing the lights click on.

She stands and sips her glass of wine as she approaches the steps. She ascends them and turns to see him sifting through drawers in his bathroom. His cock is hard and bounces with his movement, hitting the drawers as he slides them open.

She chuckles to herself and sits on the bed before taking another sip.

She silently sits, watching him and sipping on her wine.

How had she found herself here? Or did it not really matter? It was obvious at this point that she had feelings for him. She wouldn’t be here otherwise. If it was sex she wanted she had a toy at home.

But this wasn’t about feelings. This was about desire.

About her needing to feel him after all of these years. After all of his innuendos and flirting.

It was time to put his money where his mouth was.

And fuck, his mouth …

She can only imagine how good his body might be.

She turns to him as he continues to sift through drawers.

That’s a lot of cock, though.

“Ah!” he finally says, finding a set of condoms tucked in the back of his drawer.

She grins and takes a sip of wine.

He walks over to her as he opens the condom.

She reaches a hand out and grabs his cock, using it to pull him closer. He freely allows her to pull him to her by this particular love handle.

She sets the wine aside before turning back to him and wrapping her lips around the head of his cock.

He smiles and peels the condom out of its package before tossing the wrapper aside.

“I hope you don’t intend to do much walking tomorrow, Detective,” he grins.

She turns her eyes up to him, and he can see the annoyance behind it. It makes his cock jump, and she pulls away from him, surprised.

“I _knew_ you had a thing for pissing me off,” she says, stroking him.

He grins, and she reaches up and grabs the condom from his hand before sliding it onto him.

He smiles as she scoots back on the bed. He kneels, leaning over her.

“Have you decided how you want it yet?” he asks, cooing into her ear.

He slides himself between her legs, ready to fill her from this position. She places a hand on his chest and pushes him onto his back.

“Oh,” he says pleased, “you on top? Surprise, surprise.”

She huffs as she straddles him, “Don’t you ever shut up?” she asks, a small smile on her face.

“Make me,” he challenges.

She just stares at him as she pulls his erection from lying heavily on his stomach. She positions it beneath her before slowly sliding him in. The tip goes in first, and she closes her eyes, adjusting to the stretch.

Once she is past that point, she bears her weight onto him, and, slowly, he slides in a few more inches. He sucks in his breath, cursing as he exhales.

She keeps her eyes closed, adjusting. She hasn’t felt something like this in over two years, and even then, she doesn’t recall ever feeling this full.

She continues to bear down onto him, his cock slowly sliding further and further into her. He huffs and tosses his head back.

She was tight and hot, and his toes shake with impatience. He wants to buck his hips, but he holds steady.

Her jaw begins to open as she slowly sinks down more. Air leaves her mouth, followed by a hum.

He watches her, just a few more inches to go. Suddenly she stops a full two inches above his pelvis.

“Don’t tell me you’re done,” he says.

“You’re too big,” she huffs, leaning forward and placing a hand on her chest, trying to take the pressure off her hips.

It’s been a while since she’s done this.

“You underestimate yourself, Detective,” he says.

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

He chuckles

“Darling, you don’t need your brain for sex. Damn things only get in the way.”

She opens her eyes, finds him staring back at her with a pleased grin.

“You try taking something this big and see if you don’t need a moment to gather yourself.”

His grin widens, and she realizes too late she said something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Been there, done that. Many times, in fact,” he says.

She groans and leans forward again, pulling her knees close to his body. She begins to test the waters, rising slowly a few inches before lowering herself back.

His groans, his head falling back onto the bed. He brings his hands up to her hips and holds her as she slowly continues to rise and fall.

She moans, her movements becoming slicker with each motion. It doesn’t take long before she is riding him quickly, panting and moaning. Lucifer, for his part, begins to thrust back, slowly sinking himself deeper and stretching her out.

She slowly sits back and upright, allowing him to thrust up into her.

“Lucifer,” she moans.

He groans and holds onto her hips tighter, his thrusting more energetic.

There, their bodies crash into one another, her breasts swaying through each jolt and their moans turning from quiet enjoyment to a loud and raucous pleasure.

“Fuck!” she exclaims, after aparticularly hard thrust.

He lets go of her hip and reaches a hand back to slap her ass. She grunts and tosses her head back.

“Oh my … shit!” she whines.

“Is your pussy happy?” he asks.

“Yes!” she huffs.

“Yeah?” he says, watching as her breasts bounce with each rise and fall, “Would you like me me to make it happier?”

She hisses, leaning forward, and setting a hand on his chest. She can feel his heart beating, thumping, beneath it.

“Fuck … Lucifer,” she whispers breathily.

That is what makes him sit up. In one smooth motion, he flips her onto her back. Here her legs splay out beneath him, and he continues their former rhythm by plunging his cock into her. Except in this position, she can’t control his depth.

He pushes himself into her until his pelvis is flush with her own, and she gasps.

“Oh!” she screams.

She reaches a hand out and places it on his abs, trying to push him away. He moves her hand away from his chest.

“Trust me, Chloe,” he says, “you can take it.”

His grips the side of her body, right above her hip bone, and his hands sink into the soft flesh.

His hips rock at a moderate speed, filling her to the hilt before sliding back out, his cock slick with her fluids.

He pushes himself in again, and she gasps.

“Ungh,” she moans, “you’re so deep.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he huffs, watching his cock come out more wet with each stroke.

He doesn’t believe he’s ever been with a woman that has gotten this wet.

“Mmm,” she moans.

“Do you?” he asks, knowing very well the answer but needing to hear it.

“Don’t stop,” she huffs, her voice tense.

She pulls her hands up, reaching to hold on to his thighs and keep his body close to hers.

“Shit,” she hisses, her jaw wide open and her face tense.

“Do you get this soaked for everyone?” he asks, “or is it just me?”

“Don’t stop,” she cries.

He leans forward, his body completely pressed against hers, his face stuck in the pocket between her neck and shoulder.

He thrusts deep into her and holds, making sure every inch of him is inside of her.

She gasps and taps to push him away.

“Lucifer,” she huffs, pushing onto his shoulders.

He pulls back and grabs her hands, pulling them to her sides and holding them down with his weight.

He pushes himself against her, trying to fit more of his cock in. She gasps, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. When he doesn’t move, she moves for them, her hips rotating and flailing against his.

“Oh my _fucking_ … Shit!” she curses.

She sounds angry and he chuckles.

He stares down between them, to where they are connected and watches.

He huffs in awe, groaning through each rotation.

He pulls out then thrusts hard back into her.

She cries out and slides her fingers between his, locking their hands together.

Their bodies latch together and move as one. He delivers short pumps into her, keeping himself as deep as he can go.

She gasps, feeling every inch of him slide into her and fill her body.

“Oh my Go-o-shh,” she cries.

He lets go of her hands and immediately drops down, laying his weight on her and pulling his arms between her body. She can’t push him away now, though he has a feeling she won’t.

“Has anyone ever fucked you this good?” he huffs into her ear, warm and confident.

“No,” she whines, the pure pleasure of it unable to hold her regular snark, her normal quips—just pure honesty.

“I wish I had more cock to give you,” he says, “I want more of me inside you.”

“Lucifer,” she says, literally crying his name, as he reaches under her and lifts her ass closer to his body.

The tilt and the gentle jolt of it allows a counter for his thrusts. Their bodies slam together with a loud clap.

They both fall silent, save for their panting and moaning.

Save for the sound of his hips smashing into the back of her thighs, or the sound of her body producing more juices with her arousal.

Between them is a mess of inflamed flesh and lubrication, complete and utter sin.

He continues his rhythm, almost as if he had practiced it.

He leans up, his head pulled from the crook of her neck. He rests his head on her forehead, and here they pant into the air around each other’s space.

Chloe is the first to open her eyes, hollow darkness behind them – her identity surrendered into pure lust and want.

She brings her hand up and holds his head there.

It causes him to open his eyes, and there, their stare locks.

They watch each other, panting and sweaty.

It only takes a few seconds for both of them to understand. For both of them to read this moment for what it is.

They aren’t _fucking_.

They aren’t even having sex.

They are making love.

His breathe halts, and that feeling in his chest explodes. He catches a cry in his throat. His thrusts, which were smooth and with rhythm, start to become erratic.

They jolt her body, sending uneven spikes of a delightful pressure into her nervous system that leaves her gasping.

His eyes begin to tear up, overwhelmed.

He wants to be deeper, closer. He wanted to become her, to inhabit her very space.

“Chloe, I-” he huffs.

“Shut up,” she pants before her lips crash into his.

The kiss is sloppy and enthusiastic, and instead of fighting it, he falls into it.

He fucks her, giving every ounce of himself, and to her credit, she takes it. She gives every ounce of herself to him, and together their bodies writhe and roll. It is sweet as much as it is, at its core, desire and lust.

“Bloody Hell, you feel so good,” he gasps, so close to finishing.

She digs her nails into his back, feeling that ball in her core tighten every time his cock bottoms out in her.

“Daddy,” she whines in a low, breathy whisper.

It’s low and soft, but it is perhaps the single hottest thing he’s ever heard.

For the first time in his long life, the devil cums first.

Except he doesn’t just walk freely into his orgasm, he falls. He is sent careening over the edge into his orgasm.

He groans as he spills himself into her, thrusting hard through each spurt. This, in turn, sends her over the edge, and she cries his name seconds before every muscle in her body locks up, and she is sent shaking into a blinding orgasm.

When he feels her body pulsing around his cock, he groans and huffs in awe, as if he were just dipped into a cold ice bath.

Together they moan and writhe through their orgasms. He collapses on top of her, and they lay there for a few moments, sweaty and panting. After a few seconds of stillness, he begins to roll his hips, fucking her softly.

“ _Fuck_ , Chloe,” he huffs, as if _he_ was the one with little experience.

Eventually, she starts to laugh. It starts out as a giggle before it turns into a chuckle, then laughter – complete with snorts and all.

He pulls away from her and kneels between her legs, his cock still inside her. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he just stares at her.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, a smile on his face.

“I don’t know!”

He grins and slowly withdraws from her.

“I usually don’t finish that early. I’ll go get another condom, and we can start round two,” he grins as he walks to the bathroom, “we still have time, right?”

“I don’t … I don’t think I have anything left in me!” she jokes.

“Nonsense. You’d be surprised how many orgasms the human body could muster if put under the right pressure.”

“Lucifer, you’re inhuman!”

“Yes, I am,” he answers.

She giggles and turns her head to the side table to see her glass of wine.

She sighs, relaxed, and leans over to grab it. She sips it before turning her eyes to the bathroom. Lucifer has disposed of the condom and cleans himself up with a damp cloth.

She huffs and lays back, content. She hasn’t felt this sated in a _very_ long time. She might be able to go another two years at this point. Hell, maybe even three.

She chuckles to herself, serotonin surging through her brain.

She will definitely be sore in the morning, though.

She tosses her head back and sighs. Then, she lazily she turns her head to the night skyline twinkling beyond large glass windows.

That is when she catches her reflection. She is nude, hair tussled, and a glass of wine in her hand. Her smile falls, and slowly, she pulls the sheets up around her.

Sex with Lucifer was … amazing.

Definitely the _best_ sex she has _ever_ had, and definitely much needed, but …that was all it was.

Sex.

She had made herself another woman, another conquest. Another body to experience what sex with him had to offer.

She knew what this was. She is an adult and knew this was a one-time thing, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t hoped for more.

They had a moment, didn’t they? Or maybe her brain wanted them to. Maybe she wanted to imagine that this was something more than what it was.

She had hoped she was different.

Yet, in the reflection in the window, she sees herself as every other woman.

Fucked and disheveled.

Somehow that hurts more than it should. Somehow it hurt more because …

She swallows her spit, trying to keep the sadness bubbling up in her spirit down.

She was right. This was bad.

Now, without the stagnant air of sexual tension and without hiding behind the excuse of professionalism, she is face-to-face with what she knows to be true.

What she had almost always known to be true.

She had feelings for Lucifer. Not his body or his work mojo, _him_.

But he was emotionally unavailable. He wasn’t a relationship type of man.

He only cared for sex, and she just had sex with him.

What If, now that the mystery was gone, he didn’t care?

Even if he wanted to stay as her partner, how would she work with him now that her emotions had been laid bare?

Now that she knows how his body feels and how he sounds in those most intimate of moments.

How could she pretend to not be jealous or hurt when he has sex with other women? Or flirts with suspects?

It would be pathetic to admit this is the happiest she’s felt in a long time. Had she truly been that starved for attention that she is clinging to a man who continually runs away from her?

This was fucked.

This was bad.

Almost on cue, Lucifer returns with a condom wrapper.

“Last one I’m afraid, but being that this isn’t an all-night affair, we should be fine. How much time do we have?” he asks.

She turns to him, absolute grief behind her eyes. She looks soft and fragile, and there is that feeling in his chest again. The one that wants to hold her and protect her.

“What?”

She shakes her head, wanting to push it back down, but it’s too late. Her eyes begin to water.

“I should go,” she says, gathering the sheets around her body.

“What? Why? Darling, we have –“

“This was a mistake,” she says, shaking her head and stumbling past him.

“Mistake?” he asks, his words showing his utter confusion, “Darling, we just had _amazing_ sex. What do you mean a mistake?”

She whips around, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“It’s a mistake!” she says, “we’re just going to … leave here and pretend none of this ever happened. That none of this is …that I don’t…”

He furrows his eyebrows and descends the steps.

“Detective, what on _earth_ are you-“

“I can’t do what you do,” she says, interrupting him, “I can’t just … I can’t have sex with someone and not care. Okay? I …this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have-”

“Oh,” he replies, his shoulders dropping a bit.

He fiddles with the condom wrapper in his hand.

She sniffs, trying to wipe the tears away.

“I should go,” she says, leaning down to pick her dress off the floor, “we can just … pretend this never happened.”

She turns her dress right side in, her elbows held close to her body to keep the sheet up.

“We’re going to do it anyway,” she says sadly.

Lucifer tenses his jaw and just stares at the floor. He fiddles with the condom in his hand.

Would it be pathetic to admit this is the happiest he’s felt in a long time? The most whole? He thought they had an understanding. That they had a moment where it was laid bare how they felt. Was it a moment? Why does it feel like they had finally admitted something to each other only to have it disintegrate in the light of day.

It would be pathetic and stupid and -

“We don’t have to,” Lucifer blurts out.

She scoffs and turns back to her dress. Trying to figure out how to slip it on without him seeing more of her body. Though at this point, she supposes, it was pointless to hide.

“Pretend, that is,” he adds.

She pauses and turns to him, utter confusion behind her eyes.

“I … we can do this again. If you’d like. I certainly wouldn’t mind,” he offers, a timid smile as he descends the steps slowly.

She scoffs. Of course he wants to have sex again.

She shuts her eyes tightly, kicking herself for crossing that line.

This was bad.

“Lucifer …”

“Perhaps you’ll actually allow me to take you out for a meal this time?” he asks, “someplace nice. _Adult_ , as you say.”

She pauses, kicked out of the spiral of sadness she was ready to fall into.

“What?” she asks.

“Or is it work you’re concerned about? I assure you, Detective, I am capable of secrets. In fact, I can give you my promise that I will speak no word of our affairs to those you deem unworthy of knowing.”

She slouches her back, her eyebrows furrowing deeper.

_What?!_

She just stares at him, trying to figure out how the fuck they got from sex to him … to him asking her out? He’s done it several times before but always in an effort to sleep with her. He’s already had sex with her, why would he ask her out now?

“or if you’re concerned about how the child might receive us then … well, we can do more game nights. Though if we play monopoly again, I’d like to call first pick on my token,” he says.

She narrows her eyes, wondering if she somehow stumbled into a fever dream. Maybe that last orgasm had indeed made her blackout, and she’s having some sort of lucid fantasy.

“and since I imagine you’d be spending most of your free evenings here, I could make room for a few of your belonging,” he says, turning to his closet.

“Lucifer, I-“ she begins to say.

“You’re right. Inappropriate assumption, I just ... I enjoy your company.”

 _What the fuck is happening?_ She asks herself, staring at him like she expects him to sprout horns and a tail at any moment.

“I mean, certainly I’d have to shift a few suits out the way, but … that is what my downstairs closet is for. We could make this quite the arrangement,” he says, a nervous smile curling on his lips.

Again, his smile says one thing, but his eyes say another. His smile gives off the air of the calm and collected, but his eyes are wild with worry. They practically beg her for a yes.

She stares at him, utterly confused and shocked.

“Are you …? Wait,” she says, trying to wrap her head around this.

Around the playboy millionaire club owner who wouldn’t know commitment if it signed his name in blood… suddenly he wants to…

“Are you saying you want to date me?” she asks, doing fuck all to hide the sheer surprise in her voice.

He locks up, “I … well, it just seemed like-“

“Like _actually_ date?” she says, “like … emotional vulnerability, sharing sensitivities and responsibilities. Monogamy. Just me, and you? No other women?”

He opens his mouth to say something.

“or men?” she tacks on.

“I assume there will be more sex, correct?” he asks.

She just stares at him like she wants to shoot him.

“Right, I … yes.”

“Yes?” she asks, disbelieving.

He nods, “Yes, I … I think we would make an excellent pair, don’t you? Solving crime by day, enjoying each other’s bodies by night.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t want you to want to date me just so you can have sex with me,” she says.

“I assure you that is not –“

“because being with someone is about more than just sex, Lucifer. It’s about companionship. Having someone who will be there when you are feeling sad. Someone you can trust to have your back no matter what.”

His eyes begin to narrow.

“Someone who will willingly sacrifice for you, no questions asked. Someone who you can count on, even when you might be angry at them or vice versa. A partner, in all senses of the word. Not just at work. In life.”

His narrowed eyes slowly ease as his eyes begin to twinkle, and a large grin forms on his face.

She stares at him, unsure what this look is but sure she wants to punch it off his face.

“Why, Detective,” he says, walking towards her.

She backs away a little.

“By that definition, it would seem we’ve been dating for _years_.”

“I-“ she says before pausing.

Her shoulders slouch as she thinks about it. Lucifer had always been there. He had always been someone she could trust, she could count on. He had done things for her with little thanks in return.

Even the times when she was angry at him, or he was upset with her, he was always a phone call away. He did stupid, childish things, but she knew he always had her back. Hell, this whole thing started because he wanted to help her.

“I-“ she says, her brain trying to put all that into perspective.

She feels his arms wrap around her, and his lips find purchase on her neck.

“and I’ve love to date you for much, much longer if you’ll allow it,” he coos.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she huffs.

He chuckles, “Never, Darling. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

She slowly turns in his arms and stares up into his eyes.

They are filled with warmth and joy, and they beam with pride and happiness.

“Is this real?” she asks.

“Do you want it to be?”

Her eyes flip down to his lips.

“Yes,” she says.

He coos and leans in to kiss her. The kiss is sweet and soft. She pulls her arms around him, dropping the sheet around her body.

Naked flesh presses to naked flesh before she pulls away from the kiss and rests her head on his chest.

They rock in silence for a bit, a small, content smile on her face.

“Well,” he huffs pleased, “the devil has a girlfriend. Father must be right up his own ass right about now.”

She snorts and shakes her head.

“You’re so weird,” she chuckles, pulling her head up to see the smile on his face.

“I’m weird?” he asks, brushing tears away from her eyes with his thumb, “What was all that daddy business? Hmm?”

She blushes, “oh, you … you heard that?”

He grins, “Uh-Huh.”

“I was …I don’t know. I tried to think of the dirtiest thing I could say…it just felt so good.”

He chuckles to himself, and that chuckle falls into a warm hum.

“What is that? Four to two?”

“Maybe we should stop with the counting.”

He chuckles, “You’re right, you’ll always be ahead of me.”

He leans in and kisses her, and for the first time in a long time, their kiss is sweet, and there is no hint of denial there.

“Again?” he asks when he pulls away.

She turns her head to look at the clock. She calculates the time in her head, then turns to him, smiles and nods.

He picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder.

“Lucifer!” she giggles as he ascends the steps into his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! We did it. Case closed. I tried. Hopefully, Chapter 3 was worth it. Thanks to everyone who read and liked and commented :]
> 
> follow me on hrfiction.tumblr.com for fic updates and thank you so much for the feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I had intended this to be a one-off, but I did not expect so many people to want a Chloe payback situation! So, I'm updating to reflect I will be adding a second chapter where Chloe returns the favor so to speak.
> 
> Edit again: I shot myself in the foot. Updating to reflect the impending third chapter.
> 
> follow me on hrfiction.tumblr.com for fic updates and thank you so much for the feedback!


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